Explore "The Sentry" by Wilfred Owen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew, / And gave us hell, for shell on frantic shell / Hammered on top, but never quite burst through.
Rain, guttering down in waterfalls of slime / Kept slush waist high, that rising hour by hour, / Choked up the steps too thick with clay to climb.